


Even from the first night

by Japsody



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Edwardian Period, F/M, Fluff, Married Couple, because her old education, but he likes to her, not much angst, she is in deny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 11:57:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20081824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Japsody/pseuds/Japsody
Summary: She is aristocracy, education and tradition.He is fresh metal, with enough new money from his engines that she consider him a coal.But then, she could be convincing herself that she doesn't love him.(because it seems that she does)Something like a 1900 romance arranged AU.





	Even from the first night

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, me again ... I'm improving my English, be kind ... besides, historical romances are my downfall and I'm collecting inspiration to resume my precious "Dear-Not-Real, Captain Fitz" project (it's abandoned but hey , I have 3 weeks off, I may finish it! yay!)  
Omit my faults I had never written about 1900 before but it felt like a good period to me...  
Enjoy.

It is the spring of 1901 and her parents offer a great dinner at the family manor house where many important men are present.

Her family is rich and aristocrat, with blood connections that reach until the royal family. She has been educated from the crib to respect the old traditions and contribute to the family name.

He is metal, old coal, and motor. He hesitates during most of the dinner which fork to use.

When she first sees him go through the door house, she pretends not to see his eyes widen by the large crystal chandelier hanging on the ceiling or by their golden portraits that encapsulate important historical family members. She pretends don't be interested in his talk about his old physics classes at the university and then pretends don't be up to his conversation when her father deftly gathers them at the same table for a card game. She quickly exhausts the banal comments about the weather in a desperate attempt not to please this man but the other attendees are skilled, hired by her father to act as society's matrons and what threatens to be an awkward game is transformed, to Jemma's amazement, into one of the most challenging games to win.

(She pretends don't know that he let her win at the end and then, pretends don't hear the whispers behind them when he pulls her away to have a private conversation with her on the settee)

Quickly he proves to Jemma that she is right and he is the worst type of coal: He stumbles his words without thinking, blushes too much to be a gentleman, and argues with her about books. _He is too new._

By the time the night is over and attendees say goodbye to the hosts, Jemma can see the tremor in his hands when he asks for her permission to write.

When her father orders to the butler serve him a drink of whiskey in celebration and see how her father gives a nod to her mother, Jemma knows that it is done: she can no longer pretend that she hasn't just met the man that her father wants as her husband.

Which, really, is very unfair.

Jemma Simmons is an aristocrat and has a position. She should be able to have a season in London to surround herself with her peers as her older sisters did. She should be able to visit her brothers in Oxford for a weekend and attend parties with new music or travel to the beach and be introduced to strangers. She should be able to live a little before being the lady of coal but her father has hatched his plans since the young inventor was presented to him in the London chamber and now there is no way back.

“We've given you everything you need to make this match, Jemma. Don't ruin it for your father.” Her mother tells her when one of the maids adjusts Jemma corset two weeks later.

Mr. Fitz is back, with his hands in his pockets, having a conversation with his father at the bottom of the garden party.

From the shadow, Jemma would study the gestures of both men, the meaning of the blow on the shoulder that his father gives to the inventor, or the wrinkled forehead of her mother but instead, Jemma is quite focused on trying to breathe through the corset.

“Do you want lemonade?” Offers the American lady married with Mr. Fitz's best friend.

Jemma accepts with a smile.

"You know? I promised Mr. Fitz not to interfere but I assure you that he is not a bad man. Short of words and a little too engrossed in the engines but you couldn't do worse. I mean, look at me.” The blonde points herself and Jemma is a little jealous of Mrs. Hunter's free and loose new fashion dress. "I ended up married to a man who discusses with me about the onions production in the Indian colonies just to show me that he is right about our need to hire a new chef and a ship with onions -Lord knows for what."

Jemma laughs heartily. Since Mr. Fitz introduced Jemma to his friends that day, she witnessed at least ten times how the marriage discussed things that made no sense.

Hearing the laugh, Mr. Fitz turns to the ladies and Jemma's father excuses him, allowing him to approach her.

"Fitz!" Mrs. Hunter calls him, flirtatiously. "I must assure you that we weren't talking about you."

The inventor's eyes narrow towards the blonde woman. “Isn't your husband a military man?"

"And what about that? You already know it, he is your best friend.” The blonde points to her husband, who waves the badminton racket towards them in a greeting mode.

Mr. Fitz relaxes. "Anyone would assume that a military's wife would learn to be subtle over the years."

"Honey, I'm being as subtle as I want to be." The blonde steps back and laughs away.

Jemma is very worried that this group of people will be with whom she should relate in the future if her father's plans transcend.

Momentarily she wonders if Mr. Fitz is a man willing to share separate houses with his wife. She assumes he could afford two houses, her father assured her yes.

"You weren't talking about me, weren't you?" The inventor distracts her from her thoughts.

Jemma denies. "It's what your friend said, Mr. Fitz."

"Uhm-good because let me tell you that whatever she told you about me, is a lie. No doubt."

Dazed, she records that in her head as he offers his arm and takes her to walk through the shaded house garden, receiving knowing looks from party goers.

A month after, Jemma finds out about her engagement through the newspaper she reads in the drawing-room. She wants to throw things, scream and especially face her father for involving her in his political entanglements but instead, she destroys the precious watercolor in which she has been working the last days.

(The disaster ends with something similar to the figure of Mr. Fitz but she denies it)

The manor house receives a guest two days later and Jemma sees him getting out of his bright green car before hurriedly walks towards the entrance. She manages to control her breathing at the same moment that a servant announces Mr. Fitz presence, closing the door enough for Jemma to understand that her mother is on the other side listening.

"Have ... Uhm, have you read the newspaper lately?" Mr. Fitz says in greeting, playing with his jacket while approaching her.

According to the label rooted since the age of eight for such situations, Jemma straightens her back against the settee. Pretending not to know where the conversation will go. "Are you asking me to read it?"

Mr. Fitz smiles with all his teeth -very coal way-, shortening the space until he sits next to her and joins their hands quite naturally. "I wanted to do this well, but your father insisted on publishing it as soon as he gave his blessing."

Jemma pretends not to notice how his hands sweat against hers.

"And excuse me for the delay, I was trapped in London with some investors but now...okay, ejem." Mr. Fitz clears his throat, releases his hands and kneels in front of her, digging into the inside pocket of his jacket until he releases a ring. "Miss Jemma Simmons, would you do me the honor of being my wife?"

And there it is. The moment for which she has been trained from the crib. And given her education, she knows the right answer but anyway she is a little surprised at how quickly the word comes from her lips. According to her governess, she should have expected at least five suspense breaths.

By the time Mr. Fitz slides the simple gold ring on her finger the door opens, revealing Jemma's mother that insists that Mr. Fitz stays for dinner.

For dessert, Jemma concludes that she is at least a little grateful that he asked her.

That he has given her an option.

She could have said no.

_(She don't)_

By the time her father is sharing a cigarette with Mr. Fitz on the balcony and her mother climbs the stairs to write the news to the family and political acquaintances, Jemma tells herself that the speed with which she accepted his proposal is due to her father insistence by the advantage of their union and nothing else.

Definitely not because he has read modern science fiction books, discusses with her like an equal or because she doesn't stop thinking about him when his letters don't arrive at the usual time of the day.

Her family gathers to celebrate a Friday. One of those long weekend visits where her mother plan activities for every day and where each meal is served as if the king himself sat at the family table.

“He is handsome.” Her older sister says, hitting Jemma's elbow, distracting her from her reading on the garden. Jemma looks up from the book, pretending not to know who her sister is talking about.

One of her cousins laughs in response and comments on how big Mr. Fitz's arms are.

"Well that its to be expected from someone who works with his own hands." Jemma's sister answers and the ladies laugh.

Jemma blushes and looks away from the arms in question, returning to read about how Julio Verne makes Dick Sand left in charge of a ship in his novel.

"Come on sister, don't be boring." Her older sister stings again.

“Yes cousin Jemma, don't deny it. Nor did you expect someone related to engines to be so attractive.”

Jemma looks beyond the parasol, where men are willing in the croquet field and where Mr. Fitz has just made a masterful presentation of how physics applies to basic concepts of life, yes, including a field game.

She picks up the reading, concentrating.

But she can't because now it hears a round of applauses indicating that Mr. Fitz has finished the game.

"And now he's raising both arms." The ladies gasp, altogether.

"He is coal." Jemma reminds them through her teeth, without taking her eyes off from her book, imploring in silence they leave it where it is.

Then all women laugh and move their interest quickly to another topic.

And of course, they would be like that. They don't care enough to keep talking about Mr. Fitz, his arms, or his engines. Her sisters are married to important men who travel around Europe for relationships and their sons will be dukes and ladies one day. Instead, Jemma has been united to an inventor originally from Scotland who discusses astronomy, concave mirrors, and blushes when he mentioned the word piston, of all things.

"Ladies." Mr. Fitz's voice drives her away from her thoughts and when everyone, including Jemma, turns to look at him, he scratches his nose nervously, as if he didn't aware that all women look at him with lust and that his blond curly hair is disheveled, making him look as young as he is. "I was wondering if my fiancee has some free time before dinner?"

The women turn to her.

"Certainly reading has not been what I thought it would be for me today-." Jemma closes her book quickly and stops, reminding herself how to get up from the chair with elegance and restraint, pretending that the smile on her lips is not authentic. He approaches her, posing one hand on her lower back and leads her to the entrance of the manor house.

"Uhm- how does a car ride sound to you?"

Jemma nods in agreement as Mr. Fitz guides her to the bright green car that she has seen him drive to the house every day since she accepted his proposal. If there is no doubt about how inadequate he is on his new place in the world, here is one of the greatest exponents of it: he drives by himself. There is no driver or helper around him, just a simple pair of glasses when the weather is cloudy. Jemma's mouth fell open the first time she noticed it. Wasn't driving dangerous? But then, Mr. Fitz had assured her in a letter that driving was no more difficult than riding a bicycle and since Jemma remembered a distant summer when her brothers let her ride a bicycle with them before her governess cataloged it as inadequate, she was satisfied with his response. Riding a bike was easy and dotty. But not so much for a coal.

“I have realized that I have never offered you a trip and I am willing to correct my mistake.” Mr. Fitz looks at her, opening a door to her. "That, if you wish."

Then Jemma not knowing when or why she is screaming when her fiancé is speeding down the road away from the house. And then, she is sure that she can feel the wind cover her ears and she could be laughing genuinely now.

Mr. Fitz, noticing the change, turns to her, with a pretentious smile on his face. "Are yo--."

"Don't take your eyes off the road!" Jemma laughs, scolding him.

And Mr. Fitz makes a silly show by zigzagging the car on the road, causing more shouts and laughs from Jemma.

By the time they reach the end of the property's road, Mr. Fitz turns his body, moves the handlebar in a complex way, and guides them back to the house, this time respecting the speed rules.

"I could teach you to drive if you like." He tells her, carelessly leaning his free arm on the seat behind her head.

"Why would you do that?" Jemma questions it. The usual thing would be to leave the task to some driver or employee.

"Because I'd like to do it." Mr. Fitz turns to look at her honestly. And then, she is about to open her mouth to thank him but the car rises sharply, whipping them against a wooden berm and Mr. Fitz struggles to keep them on the road and then, the car stops abruptly against a tree.

Jemma pretends don't hear the curse that comes out of Mr. Fitz's mouth when he gets out of the car and inspects what happened. And then she pretends that it is not important when he asks for her help and she gets a toolbox from the trunk while he studies the front wheel. And she pretends not to blush when her fiance gives to her his cardigan and then begins to roll up the sleeves of his shirt over his elbows to proceed to replace the battered wheel.

By the time the sun starts to go down and Mr. Fitz cleans his hands with a handkerchief, Jemma concludes that no matter how new his name or profession is, she likes to hear him talk about the first engine he built and how the pieces fit into his mind before designing the sketches and how his mother cried when Mr. Fitz gave her all the money of his first payment.

Now, Jemma knows what it is to know someone smart and brave enough to create something with his own hands.

By the time they return home just an hour before dinner, her older brothers make fun of them when they see them appear in the car. They approach Mr. Fitz, hitting his shoulders in a very manly way, and jokes about the strange courtship they carry inside a car.

"What will be next?" Her closest brother in age says. "Courtships over the phone?"

The men laugh and Mr. Fitz responds to the joke with cunning as they approach the house door without taking his hand off Jemma's back.

And then, even though Jemma knows that her brothers are being rude to Mr. Fitz as only men can be, mocking him for having changed a car wheel with his own hands- she can no longer pretend that her fiance is not up to it.

Because he is.

So she shuts up her siblings as only a lady can do and then pulls her fiance toward the house, leaving them open-mouthed behind them.

"You guys do deserve each other." Her close to age brother mocks.

"Shut up, just let them be." Her older brother defends her.

She doesn't listen anymore. She is very distracted asking the butler to find Mr. Fitz's valet so he can change his greased outfit before dinner.

"Uh-"

"What is it, Mr. Fitz.?"

"Thanks for that .. about your brothers."

Jemma looks at him in amazement.

"To you. It was a nice afternoon."

For the fall they are married and he takes her to tour London financial districts for the first time, he asks her questions about what she thinks of his designs, accepts his mistakes when she does the maths better than him and insists to her call him by his name instead of "husband".

She organizes dinners with his investors in their London mansion where, with a nod, she tells him which spoon to use for Budin or when to separate from the ladies to smoke. Even though she knows he hates smoking. She helps him understand what cufflinks are suitable for every social situation and why it's not adequate that a husband returns home early from work just to discuss the advances of his designs with his wife or stay up all night hugging her in her bed refusing to leave, despite the smiles they receive from the maids in the morning.

She is a little bewildered on how Fitz managed to get so far with the London aristocracy by having so many obvious mistakes and decides that from now on, she will devote herself to amending them.

It is alarming, how much society congregates around them. They represent the new and the classic, the working side mixing with the conventional. There are certain looks of disgust in older midwives but in general, the Fitz-Simmons marriage is well received wherever they go and Jemma is surprised.

(She will not even admit -yet- but the world wants to surround them just to see the husband and wife interactions they profess)

Newspapers call them the image of a change in social classes and her father's political career has undoubtedly benefited from the propaganda but for Jemma, it has turned out to be much more.

Fitz is funny and kind and he is always moving forward but also he needs his time alone when the work is too much and his mind has not stopped thinking for hours but then when Jemma puts her hand on his shoulder to ease his burden, he never rejects her. He allows Jemma to breathe out of conventions and he is not afraid to hear what his wife has to say about modern chemistry. He leads her personally to sessions at a nearby university and picks her up so Jemma can practices her driving. They dine at restaurants with music bands and occasionally when she stares him in the eye in front of their friends, he agrees to dance with her.

“Not bad for a coal, huh?” Fitz says to her at an elegant dinner in their mansion two months after the wedding, he had just shaken hands with the eccentric millionaire Stark who has traveled from the United States only to see his inventions.

Jemma pretends not to hear him and instead turns to share a Martini with Pepper Potts and Peggy Carter, arguing about women's suffrage.

That night, when all the guests leave she shows him how sorry she is to have called him a coal for so long. She assures him that he is nothing more than a crystal formed with the correct pressure and temperature.

"I think you just called me a diamond, wife." Fitz laughs at his side of the bed.

Jemma hits him hard with one hand, hiding her flushed face which causes Fitz to laugh harder. “If that's your way of flirting, I'm very surprised that ours has worked.”

“Hush!” Jemma snorts, placing a big kiss on his mouth. "Don't let it go to your head, you still don't know what spoon to use for soup."

The next morning, when she scratches his growing beard and he smiles like a puppy under her, Jemma pretends not to see the massive word write on Fitz's face, and then she also pretends not to receive the message when his husband kisses each freckle on her chest with dedication. But by the time they are presentable, sharing a late breakfast in the dining room and making plans to listen to music with Bobbi and Hunter, remembering a funny anecdote, he says the word.

"I love you." He is a bit embarrassed with the intensity of his revelation and leaves half-eaten egg toast forgotten on his plate. “I - uh god, forgive me. Hunter said there are a lot of labels about not love the aristocratic wife before the first child but I already do it, okay? I love you from the moment you responded to my letters with brief intelligent answers, making me feel stupid for smiling at work or maybe- oh god, I think I'm crazy and I've loved you since you beat me in cards the first time I met you at your parents' house even though I counted the cards and I -ouhm- ”

And then, Jemma can no longer pretend she is not in love of the coal man.

Because she is.

She gets up from her side of the table and runs to Fitz, affirming, very convincingly that she loves him too.

(From the first night even)


End file.
